


for the moment we will come alive

by Randomosities



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Ambrolleigns - Freeform, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomosities/pseuds/Randomosities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop fighting over the belts or I’ll take both of them and smack both of you upside the head with them. We should be celebrating, we all won. Doesn’t matter what we won, they’re all worth the same in the—“<br/>“No, they’re not,” Dean protests.<br/>“Shush, Dean. They’re all worth the same in the end. So stop arguing over them and c’mere. Y’all are leaving me out.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the moment we will come alive

**Author's Note:**

> Just some short and sweet Shield-era Ambrolleigns fluff I whipped up for a heartbroken friend.

“If you don’t stop bragging, I swear I’m going to punch you.”

Dean smiles wickedly, hoisting the United States Championship a little higher on his shoulder.

“Jealousy’s an evil thing, Sethie. Don’t let it ruin that pretty face of yours.”

They’ve just made it back to their hotel room after the conclusion of Extreme Rules, and they’re all in a pretty damn good mood, with all three of them now having gold to show as proof that all the hard work and overtime they’d put in since their debut had finally paid off.

Dean is, of course, bragging about winning the United States Championship, claiming that his title’s better than the Tag Team Championship because “there’s only one belt and one guy doin’ the work.” It’s pissing Seth off, but then again, Dean knows it doesn’t take much to piss Seth off. Hell, touch his hair and he might bite your hand off.

(In fact, the only time Seth lets anyone touch his hair is when he’s in a particular headspace and being petted, or if he’s sucking dick, but those are different stories, exclusive to him and Roman alone. Dean likes having little tidbits of information about Seth that few know, and he’s got no intention of sharing anytime soon.)

After Dean’s incredibly witty response (he decides it’s incredibly witty, and if Roman and Seth don’t agree, it’s just because they have no taste), Seth glances at his Tag Team Championship belt briefly before looking back at Dean. “You know I could just hit you with this, right?”

“Me? With what?” Dean asks, feigning innocence, save for the grin that’s threatening to make itself known on his lips.

“With this belt,” Seth says, tapping it lightly. “I think it’s one of the lighter ones, but it’s still heavy enough to knock some sense into you.”

“That makes no sense, how—“ Dean’s cut off in the middle of his very important question as Roman’s voice rings out, always so low but always louder than theirs. Dean doesn’t know how the hell he does it.

“Stop fighting over the belts or I’ll take both of them and smack _both_ of you upside the head with them. We should be celebrating, we all won. Doesn’t matter what we won, they’re all worth the same in the—“

“No, they’re not,” Dean protests.

“ _Shush,_ Dean. They’re all worth the same in the end. So stop arguing over them and c’mere. Y’all are leaving me out.”

It’s partially true; Seth and Dean have been in the corner arguing over the belts, while Roman’s been on one of the beds the entire time, his back against the headboard, dressed in nothing but faded grey sweatpants.

He’s so fucking beautiful that Dean just about drops the United States Championship in his rush to get to the bed and lavish Roman with attention. He can tell Seth’s hot on his heels, and Roman smiles as they approach, adjusting himself so that it looks like he intends to sleep soon.

Dean stops in his tracks, and Seth moves over to the other side of the bed, giving Dean a bewildered look that Dean pointedly ignores. “I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” Dean accuses, pointing a finger at Roman’s ridiculously good-looking face. “You look like you’re gonna sleep.”

“Mm, nap first and then celebration. Adrenaline’s starting to wear off, y’know?” and as if to prove his point, Roman yawns, and because yawns suck Dean finds himself yawning too. “And I get the best sleep when my boys are with me.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing for Seth to get in the bed, pressing himself against Roman’s back and murmuring soft words that Dean can’t quite understand, but are apparently affectionate from the way Roman’s eyes are lit with a fondness he recognizes from when he used to catch Roman staring at him for reasons the other man could never explain.

“C’mon,” Roman calls out to him, apparently sensing his hesitance. “Need you in here too, Dean.”

And that’s enough for him, and he crawls into the bed and presses himself against Roman’s side, fighting a smile when he feels the light press of lips to his forehead and hears the softly murmured declaration of love. Across Roman's body, Seth sounds half-asleep, but he echoes the declaration of love, reaching out across Roman’s body to brush his fingertips across Dean’s shoulder in an attempt at closeness.

Dean returns the declaration, feeling Roman put an arm around him and pull him even closer, and he smiles and shuts his eyes, letting himself relax in the warmth and safety of the two men he loves. On the other side of the room, their championship belts are tangled, much in the way Dean will find the three of them when he wakes in the middle of the night, but for now, just before he falls asleep, Dean thinks about how this feels like home.


End file.
